Book 3: The Wolf Dies
Chapter 11
Emperor Donato Vigo was conferring with his military commander. The two of them – plus the emperor's mage, Jaakko – were on their horses behind his three hundred soldiers, who were still in formation near the base of the hill in six ranks of fifty men each. The two men were debating whether to break the soldiers into smaller units in order to search the hill for Malek and the witcher or to simply keep the men in one large formation.
Suddenly, a mounted soldier approached the three men in great haste. After halting his mount, he gave a bow of his head towards Donato.
"Your Excellency," voiced the soldier in excited tones, "Commander Bakker, someone is descending the hill."
"Who?" asked Donato.
The soldier shook his head. "He's still too far away to be seen clearly, Your Grace, but it looks to be Malek, Sire."
Donato looked at Bakker, and then they spurred their mounts, quickly riding to the front of the formation. A minute later, they – along with all of the soldiers – were peering at a position about half-way up the mountain. Standing there was a lone man, who was simply staring down at the Nilfgaardian unit.
His soldier had been right, thought Donato. The solitary figure did appear to be Malek. But the emperor didn't smile, for he had no illusions that Emhyr's right-hand man was descending the hill to simply surrender.
oOo
Malek looked down towards the base of the hill and saw hundreds of Black One soldiers in formation, their armor gleaming in the midday sun. Scattered throughout the troops were several Nilfgaardian banners – a bright golden sun on an all-black field – snapping in the wind. A small, wistful smile came to his face because it all looked so glorious. His memory flashed back to all those decades ago when – as a young boy – he'd seen the black-clad soldiers parade into his little, oppressed town and restore order. There was something inside of him that still longed for the peace and the justice and the stability that the Empire had once so clearly and firmly represented to him. But, then, he remembered all that he'd given up – and all that he'd lost - by being a part of the Nilfgaardian machine. And the smile slowly fell from his face as images of Hannamiel and Evangeline flashed through his mind.
His eyes moved from the Nilfgaardian formation and drifted down to what he was holding in his left hand. He stared at the sheathed Sword for several long moments before gazing at the two objects in his right. Eventually, he exhaled deeply, gave a short nod of his head, and then he quickly looked again at the Black One army below before finally casting his eyes upward to the clear, blue skies.
"God…I don't know if you exist, but, right now, I really want you to. I want to believe in you," he whispered, his eyes searching the skies. Then, he closed them and stood still, slowly breathing in and out. "So, I place my life and soul in your hands. May you forgive me for all I've done…and for what I'm about to do."
Malek then opened his eyes and brought his right hand up to his mouth. He uncorked a vial with his teeth and spit out the stopper before doing the same with the second. Then, he remembered his last conversation with Geralt.
"The potion's called Black Blood, and it is very unpleasant to drink – even for me, with my mutations. I have no idea what it will exactly do to you, but I have no doubt it's going to be a very painful death."
"How long will I have?" asked Malek.
The witcher shook his head. "No idea. I've never seen a human drink it before."
The big man nodded. "Well, hopefully, I can stay alive just long enough to complete the job."
He then bent down to kiss the unconscious Fringilla on the forehead and gave Lydial a hug before exiting the cave.
Malek looked down into the black liquid a final time, took in and blew out another big breath, and then brought the potions to his mouth, tipping his head back and swallowing them down. Before he'd even felt their effects, he tossed the empty vials to the ground and grasped the hilt of the Sword of Destruction. And in that instant, any goodness that could be found in Malek VanderBosch was swallowed by the darkness.
oOo
Emperor Vigo had only been looking up at Malek for less than a minute when he and his mount were startled by the most intense and menacing screams he'd ever heard. All of the rest of the horses in the formation also began to nervously whiny, their muscles twitching in fear at the horrific noise. After getting his horse under control, Donato looked back up the hill to see that Malek was no longer standing. From that distance, it was difficult to ascertain, but it appeared that the man was writhing on the ground in agony.
The emperor turned to his left.
"Bakker, send twenty men!" he yelled. "Now!"
Immediately the field marshal gave the orders, and a platoon of mounted soldiers galloped up the slope. Donato's heart was racing as his eyes flicked back and forth from Malek to his approaching riders. His men were half way up the hill when he noticed that the screaming had stopped.
The giant man stood and slowly began walking down the hill until the Nilfgaardian soldiers reached him. Donato watched in anticipation as his troops encircled Malek, who quickly raised his weapon and swung it in the air over his head as if it were a whip. Suddenly, a tremendous flash of light shot forth from the blade. It was so bright that even from that distance, the emperor closed and shielded his eyes. A moment later, when he opened them again, he saw all twenty of his soldiers - and most of the horses - on the ground.
Vigo's eyes quickly shifted to Malek, who raised his weapon straight up into the air and gave a mighty roar. Suddenly, the skies above Donato cracked with a bang, and balls of fire began raining down on the Nilfgaardian ranks.
Malek continued to walk slowly down the hill towards the plain below. Every few seconds, he'd aim his blade either at the scattering soldiers or upward in the air, each thrust punctuated by a terrifying roar. And with each thrust, more and more destruction was brought down upon the Black Ones – walls of fire; dozens of lightning strikes; giant, magical hornets with lethal stingers. At one point, the ground even opened up and swallowed down a platoon of soldiers. Whatever twisted, violent means of death Malek's mind could imagine, the Sword could accomplish. It only lasted several minutes, but to the Nilfgaardians down on the plain fleeing for their lives, time stood still. Their only focus was escaping the hell that was cutting them down in swaths. And, then, as quickly as it had started, it stopped.
The man who had once been Malek fell to his knees, a horrendous yell escaping his throat. But, unlike the previous shouts of terror, this one was full of fear and pain. The Sword of Destruction fell from his grip, and he immediately followed it down to the ground. Holding his head in both hands, he screamed until his vocal cords tore. And then, suddenly, the screaming stopped and his hands fell lifelessly to the grass. His dead eyes stared upward toward the cloudless sky as blackish-red blood flowed from his eyes, nose and mouth, covering his once handsome face.
oOo
Unbeknownst to Malek, Geralt – under his invisibility spell – had watched the massacre from higher up on the hill. After seeing the man who he now considered a friend fall and die, the witcher's eyes shifted to the plain below, and he cursed silently to himself. While the flat land was littered with hundreds of corpses of both Nilfgaardian troops and their mounts, Malek had succumbed to the witcher potions before he could fully finish his mission. It seemed to Geralt that there were at least a few dozen troops now rising from the carnage, and they were all gazing upward to where Malek had once stood. A few had even started to take their first tentative steps in his direction. Geralt immediately got to his feet, and with his one good leg, began to half-run, half-skip down the hill as fast as he could. He had to get to the Sword before anyone else.
Less than a minute later, Geralt came to where Malek had first unsheathed the Sword. He quickly bent over to pick up the scabbard from where it had fallen and then continued on down the slope. As he ran, his eyes were constantly shifting between the Sword that was just ahead and the soldiers down at the base of the hill. Just as he approached Malek's corpse, his concealment Sign elapsed, and he instantly became visible again. He only glanced at Malek's face for an instant, before kneeling down and slowly sheathing the Sword's blade with the scabbard, being very careful to never actually touch the Sword, itself.
With the weapon now in hand, he was about to re-cast the invisibility Sign when he suddenly realized that it no longer mattered. It was obvious that the soldiers below had spotted him for he heard their shouting. He looked down the hill to see the remnant staring up at him but not advancing. That made sense, Geralt thought. They were waiting to see what he would do next. Waiting to see if he would use the Sword to finish the task that Malek had started. The witcher continued to look down at the soldiers, and he suddenly realized that he had absolutely no idea what to do. He almost laughed, but not in joy. Just at the ridiculousness of the situation. The remaining soldiers were clearly not going to attack him when he possessed the weapon. And yet, he knew that he would never wield it. They were at a stand-off.
The witcher's eyes began scanning the plain, counting all the still-living men standing below. A moment later, he cursed again. He'd counted well over thirty soldiers. With only one good leg, he knew that he could never defeat that many. So, there was only one thing he could do. He had to get back to the hidden cave. If he could get back there, then he had a chance to pick them off one-by-one as they climbed up the rock-face behind the waterfall.
Geralt slowly placed the Sword on the ground and then brought his two hands together to cast his invisibility Sign, but it didn't work. He had cast the Sign four to five times in a row while watching Malek use the Sword, and, now, he was magically depleted. He'd have to wait a few minutes – a few minutes that he knew he didn't have - before he was able to successfully cast any more Signs. The witcher cursed under his breath and then retrieved the Sword from his feet. Standing up straight, he gave the Black One troops one last look, and then he very slowly turned around and began walking back up the hill.
He'd only taken a few steps when he heard a distant noise behind him, causing him to look over his shoulder. His eyes went wide as he saw the remaining soldiers not only coming up the hill but coming up at a run. He quickly turned his head and looked to see how far away the cave was. He knew he'd never make it. Even the average soldier was faster at a run than he was now. He immediately began searching the terrain for any kind of help. His eyes stopped when they landed on the temple at the top of the hill, and he instinctively took off at a run.
A minute later, Geralt skipped up the steps of the portico. At the top, he turned around and gazed down the hill. The Black Ones were still halfway down the slope, but they were approaching fast. He quickly slid through the front doors of the temple, tossed the Sword to the floor, and pushed the doors closed. He looked down and saw that the doors had a locking mechanism, but it was clearly rusted and broken. He knew there was no way – even as strong as he was – that he could keep the doors shut against thirty men. He turned around, and his eyes began frantically searching the interior of the temple for anything that might help him. He then stopped and stared at a nearby column, a column supporting part of the temple ceiling.
He ran over to the Sword, picked it up and tossed it further away from the front doors, and then approached the column. He turned around and looked at the front entrance, making quick calculations in his head. He glanced down at his chest to suddenly remember that he no longer had a bandolier and, therefore, he had no more explosives. He'd used them all in destroying Eilhart's gargolem back in Maecht. But, then, he remembered his crossbow, and he pulled it and the small, attached quiver off his back.
The witcher put an explosive-tipped bolt into the weapon, aimed near the top of the column and fired. The bolt contacted the stone and exploded, causing a crack to run horizontally through the column. He quickly re-loaded, ran to the other side of the column and fired again toward the top. Another explosion followed and the crack at the top of the column got deeper. He loaded a third bolt and circled the column again. He was standing where he he'd been before, in between the column and the front doors. He fired the crossbow, this time near the column's base. After seeing the result that he desired, he simply threw the crossbow over towards the Sword, not even bothering to return it to the hook on his back. He rushed over to the far side of the column, immediately pressed both his hands onto the stone, and pushed with all his strength.
Geralt cursed again because it wouldn't even budge. So, he took a step back from the column and blasted the area near the base with several charges of Blyx. His lightning-like Sign blasted huge chunks from the stone, and it was then that he heard a cracking sound. He quickly rushed forward and began pushing against the stone column again. Finally, slowly, the damaged column began to tip towards the front entrance, and then gravity took over. But the witcher didn't stand around and wait to see the results. As soon as the column started falling towards the doors, he turned and fled as fast as he could.
There was an enormous crash behind him as the huge stone column came down right by the front doors, and just a moment later, three or four large rock slabs in the ceiling fell to the temple floor. As dust flew into the air, Geralt looked up and held his breath, waiting to see if the entire temple ceiling was going to collapse down on top of him. After several tense moments, he exhaled deeply as it seemed that the rest was going to stay in place, after all.
The witcher quickly moved towards the front entrance and gave a nod of his head at what he saw. The giant, stone column wasn't in direct contact with the doors, but it was only about a foot away. Only the thinnest of soldiers – and even then, without any of his armor - would ever be able to squeeze through the twelve-inch opening. And even if they could, they'd then have to climb over the smooth, rounded column, where the witcher would be waiting with his steel blade in hand.
Geralt slowly turned around and looked at the interior of the temple. With a large hole now in the ceiling, there was plenty of sunlight coming in, making the stark surroundings very visible. Geralt shook his head upon seeing nothing but stone walls.
"Good job, genius," he growled. "You've trapped yourself in here. Now what are you gonna do?"
The witcher immediately spun around as he detected the clinking sound of armor-clad soldiers making their way up the steps of the temple's portico. A moment later, he heard the shouts of the Nilfgaardian men on the other side of the wooden, front doors. He saw the door on the left being pushed open but - just as he'd hoped – only a few inches. As he slowly began walking towards the front door, he pulled his steel sword. He watched and listened intently for several long and tense minutes. Finally, he exhaled deeply when he realized that – for at least the moment – the Sword was safely out of their reach.
Geralt sheathed his blade, looked upward thirty feet at the hole in the ceiling, and then gave a little sigh. There was nothing that he could climb in order to reach that exit, and he shook his head as he realized that he was at a complete loss as to what to do next. It was at that moment that he, suddenly, heard of voice coming from behind him.
"Greetings, Geralt."
The witcher spun around, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword and his eyes darting back and forth. He recognized that voice, but he could see no one inside the temple. He then heard laughter echoing off the stone walls.
"Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you," said the voice, and then from out behind a fifteen-foot high, square, stone structure located in the middle of the temple strode Gaunter O'Dimm. As he slowly walked towards the witcher, he gazed around him.
"You know, the Aen Seidhe certainly did have a gift for architecture. I will give them that," said O'Dimm, now standing several yards away. He looked at Geralt and smiled.
"But I doubt you want to discuss the finer details of architecture at the moment, do you?"
Geralt didn't answer. He just stared at the Man of Glass.
"For, once again, the witcher finds himself in dire circumstances. A platoon of soldiers at your doorstep. What will you do? Will you seek my assistance? No…you've made it clear you don't want my help. And in this case, you don't even need it…not when you have the means to defeat them right there in your hands."
Upon hearing O'Dimm's words, Geralt looked down to see that he was holding the Sword of Destruction by its scabbard. He blinked his eyes, confused by the sight. He honestly didn't remember picking it up from the temple floor. So, how was it in his hand? The sunlight coming through the ceiling reflected off the Sword's hilt and caught his eye. Until then, he'd never even bothered looking at the Sword too closely, but now, he had to admit that it was absolutely beautiful.
"Oh, yes, it is beautiful," said O'Dimm, as if reading the witcher's mind. "But…will you use it? That is the question. Such the dilemma."
Finally, the witcher was able to break his gaze away from the Sword and look up at O'Dimm. He stared hard into the bald man's eyes and then gave a single shake of his head.
"I'll never use this. Just the fact that you seem to want me to tells me all I need to know."
O'Dimm clasped his hands in front of him and smiled.
"Is that so? Well, perhaps I can change your mind. Perhaps, you'll want to use it after all…on me. What if I told you that I killed your precious Evie…and thoroughly enjoyed doing it?" O'Dimm's face was still smiling, but his voice had turned ominously slow and deep. "If I told you that it pleased me greatly to see her heart beat for the last time as that final tear trickled down her face. And you, caught under that boulder, just feet away from saving her, but ultimately unable to do so. I still smile at the memory. How about now, Geralt? Feel like using the Sword now?"
The witcher didn't respond, but O'Dimm looked at his face and laughed again.
"Oh, yes. I can see it in your eyes. Do it, Geralt. Grab the Sword and cut me down. You know it would feel so good."
The witcher's eyes bore into the Merchant of Mirrors, and then they quickly dropped down to the Sword in his left hand. He stared at the hilt, breathing in and out very deeply. In an instant, he dropped the Sword, and before it had even hit the floor, the witcher was running at O'Dimm with his silver blade drawn. He'd only taken two steps when O'Dimm clapped his hands once. Suddenly, Geralt froze, immobilized in place.
O'Dimm looked at the witcher and cocked his head to the side, as if he was viewing some kind of strange, never-before-seen bug. The Man of Glass sighed and then walked up close to Geralt. O'Dimm snapped his fingers, and while the rest of the witcher's body stayed immobile, his head and face came to life. Geralt blinked his eyes several times and then gazed down at his "frozen" body for a moment before looking up at O'Dimm, who was shaking his head at the witcher.
"Did you really think you could defeat me with your witcher's sword? I'm actually embarrassed for you."
O'Dimm reached out and took the silver sword out of Geralt's grip and placed it back into its proper scabbard.
"There we go," he said with a smile. "Back where it can't do anyone any harm."
"Why don't you just kill me and be done with it, O'Dimm?" Geralt said through gritted teeth. "Go ahead, take your revenge for losing Olgierd's soul."
"Geralt…Geralt," he answered with a laugh. "I could kill you with a snap of my fingers, but where would be the fun in that? And this has never been about Olgierd."
The witcher shook his head. "Then, just what the hell do you want? What's it been about?"
O'Dimm stayed silent for a moment and then shrugged, though the smile was still on his face.
"Well, I guess there's no harming in telling you now. My plan has clearly not succeeded."
Then, his smile disappeared.
"You want to know what this has been about? Why I've taken a special interest in you?" O'Dimm asked. "It's about your newfound god. I simply wanted you to see the truth, Geralt. To see just how foolish your faith in him truly is."
Geralt furrowed his brow. "What? I don't…"
O'Dimm shrugged.
"I wasn't successful in opening your eyes, but don't worry – I have other plans for you."
Geralt stared at O'Dimm for the longest time, and, then, something finally clicked in his mind. He clenched his jaw, and his eyes pierced those of the Master Mirror.
"Malek was right. You were behind it all. Your presence in the papaver den, when that door was stuck. That's why Benny died. And you probably hoped Evie would die out on that street, as well. But, she didn't…so you made sure she died in that mountain cavern. All of that was your doing."
The Man of Glass didn't respond. He just stared back at the witcher with a neutral expression on his face.
"You killed Evie…and Benny and no telling who else…because you don't like my relationship with Essea? Why do you even care?"
O'Dimm smiled. "You know…we're standing on the site of one of my greatest achievements. Did you know that?"
With a wave of his hand, the four stone walls in the middle of the temple came apart and then slowly crumbled to the floor, revealing a large, metallic device. He gave a second wave of his hand, and immediately all of the dust on the device vanished. A few beams of sunlight made their way into the interior of the temple and reflected brightly off its surface.
"Can you believe that they tried to destroy this magnificent work of art?" said O'Dimm as he turned to gaze at the shiny object. "Of course, when they discovered that they could neither damage it nor even move it, they just decided to build a wall around it. As if that could cover up their shame. They even went so far as to permanently close the doors to their most precious temple of Essea."
O'Dimm then turned back to look at Geralt and spread his arms out wide. The witcher had never seen him look happier.
"So, for the last…almost thirteen-hundred years, this one-time temple to Essea has, instead, stood as a monument to their downfall…and to my glory. Ironic, wouldn't you say?"
O'Dimm's laughter echoed off the temple's walls.
"Now, I call it my greatest accomplishment, but truth be told…I actually didn't do much. I didn't even have to. It truly is enjoyable to watch souls lead themselves down their own path of destruction. And most of the time, you don't even need a nudge from me. You mortals truly are your own worst enemies."
The sunlight sparkled off of the silver, glass-like contraption and caught Geralt's eye. He looked closely at the twelve-foot high, metal object in front of him. Then his eyes moved over to O'Dimm, and then back to the device again. Suddenly, a memory of Evie popped into the witcher's head. It was a memory of their first week together in the mines above Tarsus, when she had first told him of the myth of the rod of Apophis. He could hear his wife's voice echoing in his mind:
"The Aen Seidhe began building a device, based on Apophis' design, which would open a portal to Essea's realm. There was a lone voice of opposition, an elven seer who warned against this course of action, but the elven leaders scoffed at his dire predictions, and the device was eventually completed. However, when it was activated, instead of opening a way to their god, the Conjunction of the Spheres occurred, bringing mayhem to the entire planet."
Geralt shifted his gaze to the Merchant of Mirrors and blinked his eyes several times as the truth finally dawned on him.
"Your name's not really O'Dimm," he whispered, shaking his head. "Apophis…you are Apophis."
The Man of Glass smiled widely.
"Well, well, I have a scholar in my midst. I didn't take you to be such a student of history. Though, we should probably give credit where it's due, right? Little Miss Evie was quite the teacher, apparently." O'Dimm then nodded. "It's true, I have changed my appearance since then. My old look was a bit too conspicuous. I usually prefer to work in much more subtle ways. But, for you, old friend, I'll let you see my true self."
He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, Geralt had to blink back from the white light. Eventually, the light dimmed, and standing where O'Dimm had been was the most beautiful creature to ever walk the planet. A man in glowing white robes, long silver hair, and a flawless face. But, a face with the blackest of eyes.
"This is me, in all my glory. Breath-taking, huh?"
Geralt didn't answer. He just stared at the being in front of him.
"It was you who caused the Conjunction," the witcher said in an almost-whisper. "You brought the monsters to the Continent…and the humans…the Chaos and the Sword of Destruction…the annihilation of the Aen Seidhe. It was all because of you."
O'Dimm just smirked.
"Why? Why do you hate the Aen Seidhe…and this world so much?"
O'Dimm's smile suddenly vanished.
"Geralt, I don't hate the Aen Seidhe. In fact, I actually feel sorry for them."
Geralt just shook his head, confusion on his face.
"I pity them…because they worship a pathetic, petty, megalomaniacal god. Essea," he said with a sneer, "the god of the Aen Seidhe and of this insignificant world."
At that point, O'Dimm walked towards Geralt and stopped just a couple feet away.
"You may have deduced my name, Geralt, but what you don't know is that I was once his right hand, his most powerful and trusted angel." Upon seeing the look on the witcher's face, he said, "Surprising, no?"
Geralt was too shocked to say anything.
"But I'll be honest, Witcher – I never understood him. Never understood his ridiculous notions on love. So, I questioned him. I confronted him. As his most loyal warrior, I had the right. I asked him, 'Who needs love when you have power?' You know what he did, then? Banished me from his presence."
The look on O'Dimm's face turned murderous.
"Banished me! His most faithful!" he yelled while pointing at his own chest.
Apophis then breathed deeply, composing himself.
"And he calls himself the god of kindness and compassion," he stated calmly. "So…I've spent the millennia since then showing him just what a fool he is. Proving to him that it is not love, but power and fear that ultimately compel a soul to follow. Showing him that – despite his love for them - his precious, chosen Aen Seidhe are nothing more than a stiff-necked, unfaithful, and rebellious nation."
Then, his smile returned.
"And you know what – it hasn't even been difficult. I just wave something shiny and pretty in front of their faces, and their idolatrous hearts do the rest. They so quickly forget about him. Or, I put them through a little hardship, and they turn on him in an instant. They invariably see what I've always known - that he's not the god of goodness and wisdom and power…as he claims to be."
Geralt was quiet. He just stared at the Man of Glass and shook his head.
"So, all of this…the last…thousands of years of…death and destruction and chaos has been because you're angry with God? And since you can't actually hurt him…you just hurt what he cares about? And you call him pathetic."
"Best mind your tongue, Geralt," O'Dimm said with menace.
"Or what – you'll kill me. Go ahead. I don't fear it. My soul is ready."
The smile then returned to O'Dimm's face. "Oh, no. I told you – I'm not going to kill you. I've got another plan for you."
With a snap of his fingers, the Sword of Destruction levitated from the floor and came to a stop right in front of Geralt's face.
"You know, this weapon has always been very effective no matter who wielded it. But I've always been curious as to just what it could do in the hands of someone truly skilled – someone like yourself." He then stepped several feet back from the witcher. "I can only imagine what a wonderfully terrible display that will be."
O'Dimm flicked his fingers, and the Sword began slowly floating toward Geralt's outstretched, right hand.
The witcher began breathing fast as he stared at the hilt inch-by-inch approaching his open palm, and then he yelled out, hoping to somehow break O'Dimm's magical bonds, but no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't move. Eventually, he stopped straining, and as he did, he could hear Apophis chuckling.
"Struggle all you like, Geralt. I've got more power in my little finger that you could ever even imagine." He looked at Geralt with condescension. "Poor, misguided fool - you never had a chance against me. And, ponder this, Geralt – just where is your god now?"
The witcher was still breathing hard, and sweat was running down his brow from his futile exertion. He broke his gaze from the Man of Glass and looked at the Sword, which was only an inch away from his palm. Finally, he peered back into O'Dimm's black, lifeless eyes.
O'Dimm smiled again at the witcher and then gave a final wave of his hand towards the floating blade. The hilt of the Sword instantly slapped into Geralt's palm, and O'Dimm made a fist, causing Geralt's fingers to involuntarily grasp tightly around the handle. And pain exploded throughout the witcher's body.
Geralt closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he felt a rush of hate flood his mind. It was as if a dozen Cirnabaugs – the creature from the Dol Blathanna palace – had invaded his soul. As the darkness began to overwhelm his psyche, he heard demonic voices echoing through his mind.
"Kill," they whispered. "Kill them all. Destroy the world. Turn it to ash."
O'Dimm then released his hold on the witcher, and Geralt dropped to the floor of the ruins, falling on his face.
The evil continued to call out to him – demanding blood - and he unconsciously curled into a ball, as if that would somehow ward off the attacks in his mind. The darkness and the voices grew thicker and louder until, miraculously, suddenly, Geralt sensed a tiny, white light appear in his mind's eye. At first, the illumination was so small that it looked like it was a thousand miles away, just like the little, glowing butterfly that he'd seen all those weeks ago atop the Tir Torchair mountains. But it didn't matter to the witcher how small the light was. He focused all his thoughts on it. And the more he focused on it, the closer it got and the larger it became.
Geralt had no idea how long he'd been staring at the light. He didn't know if it had been seconds or hours, but eventually, he sensed the light pushing back against the cirnabaugs in his mind, fighting back against the darkness, and it was, then, that Geralt noticed the voices of hate beginning to weaken. And in that moment, the witcher spoke a gentle plea – a plea of but a single word.
"Essea," he whispered in his mind, knowing not what else to do but to call on the name of the Lord.
Suddenly, the light in his mind exploded, and Geralt exhaled forcefully as the darkness, the voices, and the physical pain all fled his body at once. As he opened his eyes and began to control his breathing, he realized that the pain he'd been feeling throughout his body actually hadn't been that overwhelming. Certainly not what he'd been expecting. In fact, he realized that the pain wasn't any worse than what he'd gone through in the Trials.
The witcher slowly got to his feet, and when he looked down at his right hand, he did a double-take - shocked to see that the Sword was no longer there. Instead, he was holding a slender, six-foot long, shiny, silver staff. He lifted his head and looked at O'Dimm, who was also sporting a look of confusion. Then, a small beam of sunlight reflected off the large, metal device next to O'Dimm and once again caught the witcher's eye. Geralt looked at the contraption and then down to the staff in his hand.
And in that moment, Geralt again heard Evie's voice coming to him:
"Renewal comes from the destroyer. Order from the wild. Of the same father, but not belonging. A lover of death, rebirth will come through him. Twisted yet straight, esteemed yet reviled, virgin yet marred. By his right hand, the world will be cleansed through the rod of Apophis."
The witcher quickly shifted his eyes away from the mirror-like device and looked again at O'Dimm, who was still staring at both Geralt and the staff in his hand with a furrowed brow.
"That's it?" Geralt rasped. "That's all this Sword has got? My entire life…Essea has been helping me fight off voices…urges that were darker than those." He then held up the staff next to him. "Looks like I won't wield your Sword…or be your play-toy after all, O'Dimm. You lose again."
Geralt then looked at the large device again but just for a moment. He quickly shifted his eyes back to Apophis. But he hadn't schooled his features well enough. Essea's former right hand had seen it. He'd noticed the fear in the witcher's eyes when he'd been looking at the contraption.
"Well, this is unexpected, Witcher," voiced O'Dimm. "I must say – you are a man of constant surprises. It must be why I like you so much. At times, this world can be so very boring for me."
Suddenly, Geralt thrust the staff forward toward the Man of Glass, hoping for a blast of magic. Something – anything. But, instead, the only result was O'Dimm's laughter.
"Curious. For some…unknown reason, my rod does not seem to affect you. Hmm, perhaps, it's your mutations. Regardless, it's a pity. I was so looking forward to seeing what you would do with it."
Before the witcher could make any other type of move, Apophis snapped his fingers again, and, once again, Geralt was immobilized. The Merchant of Mirrors looked at the staff in Geralt's hand and then to his own device. When he turned back to face the witcher, he had the most evil of grins of his face. He slowly walked toward the "frozen" witcher, coming to a stop just behind him. He then leaned in close and whispered in Geralt's ear.
"But that's okay. I bet we can come up with an even better plan. I saw the fear in your eyes when you looked at my beautiful mirror. I know just what you were thinking, and it's a grand idea. It's been over a thousand years since the last Conjunction, and there are so very few monsters left on the Continent now. You witchers did such a thorough job of culling them. So, I think it's high time for a second Conjunction. What say you, Geralt? We can bring a little more excitement back into the world. And – just to keep you on your toes, I may send one or two beasts to Dol Blathanna. I'd love to see if you can get there before the Aen Seidhe are finally wiped out, once and for all."
O'Dimm then walked back around in front of the witcher. Their faces were only inches apart.
"How about it, Geralt? Ready to go down in history as the man who brought about the second Conjunction?" He then laughed. "I wonder what nickname that will earn you. I doubt it will be very flattering."
O'Dimm laughed again. "Oh, Geralt. The look on your face."
He then lifted his hand, which caused the witcher's body to levitate off the floor a few inches. He walked slowly next to the witcher as they both approached the device. The staff was still in Geralt's hand and thrust straight out in front of him.
"And, here we go," said the Man of Glass slowly, and with a final wave of his hand, Geralt floated forward, the staff inserting snugly into a port in the device.
The rod of Apophis clicked perfectly into place, and as soon as it did, Geralt was released from O'Dimm's grip. He landed on his wooden leg, immediately lost his balance, and fell to the temple floor. Instantly, he heard a buzzing in his ears and felt an energy pulsate through the air. He looked up just in time to see the giant mirror begin to slowly turn.
Geralt stared at the device as it began to spin faster and faster. As it did, it also began to emit small sparks. He broke his gaze to look over at Apophis, who was smiling widely.
"Do you feel that, Geralt!" he yelled to be heard above the whooshing noise coming from the spinning mirror. "Do you feel that power? That's the only god you need to worship, my friend."
The witcher didn't bother to answer. He simply raised his forearm in front of his face to shield his eyes, for the spinning device was now glowing with an incredibly bright, white light. And it was then that he began to hear the loudest claps of thunder that he'd ever heard. They were echoing one after another all around the temple ruins, and they were so close that he could feel the ground tremble beneath him. As he looked upwards, expecting a lightning bolt to blast through the temple's roof any second, heavy raindrops began to fall.
"That's not just thunder and lightning! Those are portals…opening up to other worlds!" yelled out O'Dimm. "You should feel special, Witcher. You're about to witness a repeat of the greatest event in this Continent's history. Essea chose this land to be the home for his special Aen Seidhe. Well, there's about to be nothing left of either. And it's all thanks to you."
oOo
Lydial moved from her hiding place in the bushes to get a better view of the front entrance to the temple. The two dozen or more still-living Nilfgaardian soldiers had created a make-shift battering ram and were in the process of trying to smash the front doors wide open, but she didn't understand why the doors didn't fall. The temple looked so old and wrecked that she thought that the entire structure should have crumbled down from just a strong wind.
The she-elf knew Geralt was inside and she wanted desperately to help him, but she wasn't sure what she could actually do. She could never defeat that many soldiers, even in a surprise attack. She was frantically brainstorming ideas when she suddenly and literally leapt in the air as a bolt of lightning struck the ground less than a hundred yards away. In an instant, the darkest, thickest clouds appeared above her and covered the sky, and raindrops fell heavy on the land.
Then, one after another, dozens of thunder-like blasts echoed around her. With each thunder-clap, an enormous, bluish-white portal would appear in the sky. One of the portals was right near the temple entrance, and as she turned her head and scanned the valley below her, she saw a countless number of them all the way to the far horizon. She had never seen anything like it, but she knew immediately what is was – a second Conjunction of the Spheres.
Lydial's eyes immediately shifted back to the portal closest to her, and she unconsciously held her breath as she waited to see just what type of monster would spring forth.
"Essea…God help us," she softly prayed.
oOo
Geralt unsteadily got to his feet. He was breathing heavy, and his heart was beating faster than he'd ever felt it beat before. He slowly lifted his head and looked straight at the Man of Glass. Suddenly, the temple shook with the sound of a thousand trumpets as a portal appeared right behind O'Dimm. The Merchant of Mirrors turned around to look at the magical gateway and then turned back to face the witcher. What O'Dimm saw confused him, for on the witcher's face was just the slightest of smiles.
"You were right, O'Dimm!" yelled Geralt above the noise, staring right into his black, evil eyes. "We are about to witness the greatest event in the history of this world. But it's not my doing. It's yours. Actually, it's God's!"
Suddenly, O'Dimm frantically looked to each side and over his shoulder as he felt some force pulling him from behind. He immediately started sliding backward toward the portal so he threw both arms out to his sides and tried to take a step forward, but he couldn't lift his foot from the floor.
"'By his right hand, the world will be cleansed through the rod of Apophis!'" yelled the Witcher, his smile now more of a sneer. "The fear you saw on my face…I wasn't afraid that you'd use your staff to activate your device! Once I realized what the prophecy meant…I was afraid that you wouldn't!"
Upon hearing this, O'Dimm let out a roar and glared at the witcher. He tried to bring his hands together to wield his power, but the force coming from the portal behind him was pulling his arms straight back. He tried to snap his fingers, but they seemed to be immobilized. He leaned his body forward as much as he could, every muscle in his being straining against the force of the portal. He didn't understand it. This shouldn't be happening.
And then the truth dawned on him. There was only one force in the universe this powerful. Only one force that was greater than his. And he'd felt it once before – when he'd been exiled from Heaven.
Apophis yelled out in fury as he continued to fight against the portal but to no avail. He was slowly being pulled backward inch-by-inch.
Despite the portal's pull on O'Dimm, Geralt felt none of it. He slowly limped toward his most powerful enemy, and stopping an arms-length away, he stared into the fallen angel's eyes.
"May God be glorified. And may you burn in hell…for eternity," the witcher said through clenched jaws. "For Evie."
He immediately shot his right fist forward and cast the most powerful Aard that he could.
O'Dimm screamed as the telekinetic force knocked him from his feet, and he went sailing through the air, end over end, straight into the open portal. Geralt could hear Apophis' scream echoing in the air until, suddenly, the portal instantly closed and disappeared.
oOo
As Lydial stared at the portal in the sky, her attention was pulled away by screams coming from the temple entrance. She quickly shifted her eyes, and her jaw slightly dropped. The Nilfgaardian soldiers were levitating in the air and flying towards the glowing portal above them. She looked up at the magical gateway and noticed that nothing – no monsters of any kind – were coming out. There were only humans going in.
She swiveled her head to gaze through the heavy rain and stared out at all of the other portals off in the distance. She squinted her eyes, but she could see nothing exiting from any of them. In fact, it appeared that small objects – they were so far away that they looked like ants – were entering the various gateways. She shook her head. This was not what had happened during the first Conjunction.
And then she understood. While the soldiers and other creatures were passing into the portals, she felt absolutely no pull on her body. Lydial quickly stood and then hesitantly walked to the portal near her. She stopped next to it and watched the last of the Nilfgaardians enter the gateway, and then, with a popping sound, the portal closed and vanished.
Lydial turned back toward the portals in the valley. One-by-one, they also began to disappear. And then, she felt it – a rumbling coming from behind her. She felt the vibrations coming through the ground and into her feet. She quickly turned around to look at the temple ruins, and she saw the brightest of white light shining forth through the various openings in the walls and the ceiling.
oOo
The witcher looked at Apophis' spinning device and a scowl came to his face. He didn't think that it was even possible, but it was continuing to spin faster and faster. Sparks and now lightning-like bolts were firing off of it in every direction, and the entire temple floor was shaking – so much so, that he was having trouble standing upright.
"Not good," he mumbled to himself as he cast a Quen and then ran towards the temple's front doors.
Halfway there, he was blown off his feet as a lightning bolt from the device impacted his protective shield. He immediately cast another Quen and scrambled back to his feet. He glanced up and saw that Apophis' device was blasting the temple to pieces, its bolts of energy knocking huge chunks of stone from the columns and walls. He quickly scurried toward the front doors and then placed both hands on the edge of the giant column blocking the entryway, but when he pulled against it, the enormous stone didn't even budge an inch despite his incredible strength.
By that time, the entire temple was shaking from the vibrating device, and a few stones from the ceiling broke loose and crashed to the floor below. The witcher knew his time was short before the entire edifice collapsed down on top of him. He turned and frantically scanned the interior of the temple – its walls and floor. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning shot forth from the spinning mirror, hit a column near the back of the temple, causing it the fall and smash through a wall. When the dust cleared, the witcher's eyes went wide at what he saw. He couldn't believe it. It looked like a door. He quickly glanced again at the device and watched it shoot out one lightning bolt after another, and he had to duck down as one charge struck the wall right above his head. He looked back at the door on the opposite end of the temple hall and inhaled deeply.
"Essea…keep me," he whispered, and then he ran straight ahead into certain death.
oOo
Lydial took a single step toward the temple when her world exploded. She was blown from her feet and landed thirty paces away. She hit hard on her back, and the wind was knocked out of her. She lay on the ground – pain pulsating through her chest - doing her best to suck the oxygen back into her lungs. But even while doing this, she noticed the deafening ringing in her ears and the small chunks of stone raining down around her. So, she quickly curled up into the fetal position and covered her head with her arms.
Within a minute, her gasping began to subside, and she felt the ability to breathe starting to return. She raised herself up on an elbow and looked at the temple. Or, rather, she looked at where it had been. The bright, white light was gone, and the temple was nothing but a pile of rubble.
She struggled to her feet and began to run up the slope towards the ruins. When she reached the portico steps, she had to maneuver around and climb over several, large and heavily damaged stone blocks. She arrived to where the front doors had been and looked around.
"Geralt!" she cried out several times.
She then stopped to listen for a shout in return, but she heard nothing except the sound of the wind. She yelled the witcher's name over and over but to no avail. With every minute that passed with no reply, more and more tears began to well up in her eyes.
Eventually, she stopped, and just stood on the steps of the temple. She lowered her head and silently cried, the tears falling down her cheeks.
"Geralt," she said softly one last time.
She then turned around and sat down on the portico steps. She put her face in her hands and just sobbed. She cried for the man that had been more to her than just a friend. She cried for the man that she'd come to view as a son. And she cried for Evangeline. She cried for Benny and Malek, Vatslav and Isaac. And despite his betrayal, she even cried for Barcain. He was her grandson, and she still loved him. She'd lost so many that she loved in the last few months, and she grieved for them all.
Lydial stayed there on the portico until she cried herself out. As she took her hands from her face, she suddenly sensed something strange. She couldn't exactly articulate how, but her body felt different. The air around her felt unusual – as if it was lighter or cleaner. It was as if some kind of invisible, oppressive weight had been lifted from her. Just then, she felt a cool breeze blow over her, and she instinctively looked up toward the late-afternoon sky. The rain had stopped and the black clouds had vanished, to be replaced by a vibrant rainbow that ran from one end of the horizon to the other. She wiped a last tear from her cheek, and looking at the rainbow, she slowly nodded her head.
"You're a good God, Essea," she said with a wistful smile on her face.
Upon saying his name, she suddenly remembered the scroll that was still inside her satchel – the scroll written by Maccarreg. She pulled out the small, stone vase, and then carefully removed the parchment. She unrolled the scroll and began to read. As she got towards the bottom of the parchment, she let out a gasp. Staring at the letter in her hands, she slowly shook her head, a look of absolute amazement on her face.
"Oh, Geralt," she whispered. "If only you could have read this."